The Beginning of Sanctification
by FuchsiasAttic
Summary: Pages from Reid's journals are copied and taped to the walls of the BAU office. These pages contain some very erotic imaginings involving Hotchner. Sorry I am terrible at summaries. Warnings: language, some s&m type things eventually.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello everybody! Giving another go at slash fiction. I'm obsessed with Hotch/Reid, in case you couldn't tell. I hope you enjoy this one._

"REID LOVES HOTCHNER"

The words, photocopied and splattered on the office wall, greeted Spencer Reid like a slap in the face. But the pages beneath the typed, all caps font, was even worse. Reid's own handwriting. His journal entries, torn and photocopied, lined the hallway walls in neat rows.

His heart began to pound. His palms were sweaty but cold, despite the cup of coffee he was holding onto. He hastily put the cup on the floor, and grabbed fistfuls of paper, stuffing them into his satchel.

"God, please, please no-" he choked. Page after page, filled to the edges, all of them about Hotch. Pages of filth and humiliation.

It did not take long for his bag to be filled up, unable to take any more of the pages he tore from the wall. Tears fell down his cheeks when he saw how many more there were along the hallway, and in the bullpen. And -_please no, please this can't be happening-_ the other agents were looking at them. He let out a small cry of anger and horror. Those that weren't standing back, casually looking at them as if they were at an art museum, were reading them out loud. Not a single one of them was trying to take them down.

"Damn," he heard Morgan chuckle, "didn't think our pretty boy genius had it in him!"

Reid turned from them and fled. He ran into the bathroom, and finally let out a deep breath when he was behind the locked door. He was unable to move for a moment, unable to even think, which was quite remarkable.

He looked up, and a sob escaped him. Pages and pages of his journal were taped to the men's room wall. Certain passages were underlined or magnified onto their own sheet of paper. He tore the sheets down, and tried to keep himself from hyperventilating. How many people had seen these? How many people knew?

Oh God.

Had Hotch seen?

A wave of nausea suddenly hit him. The feeling was frighteningly intense, but soon was replaced by dizziness that sent him stumbling backwards. He made his way to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. There was always the hope that he was dreaming, that, really, he was home in bed with a rather sadistic subconscious.

If only he could stay in the bathroom until everyone left for home. If he could just stay locked in and wait the day out, perhaps everything would be alright.

_Great idea,_ he thought. _And what about tomorrow? And the day after that?_

He had to quit. That was the only solution, wasn't it? The only thing he could do was leave forever, and never see these people again.

Never see Hotch again.

The thought made him shudder. He choked back a sob and tried to clear his head. Quitting was the easy way out, the coward's way. And, he thought, what about the references he would need for whatever job he took next? Hotch's letter of recommendation was sure to read something like "Smart kid, but prone to rattling off useless information, along with a tendency to fantasize –in remarkable detail- about going down on his male superiors."

Reid looked at his watch. Maybe Hotch wasn't even here yet. He probably had Jack today, and if Jack was there, then obviously Hotch had to get him ready for school. And of course, kids sometimes liked to drag their feet, causing their parents to be late for their very important FBI jobs. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to hope. There was still time to take down all the posters before Hotch saw them. And as for the other agents, well, he'd have to tell them it was some kind of bizarre prank, that it wasn't even his writing, it was the writing of a very dedicated and talented plagiarist. He could even get mad, and accuse them of making this up themselves as a misguided attempt at humour. Because highly trained psychological analysts would not possibly see through blame shifting like that.

But it was still worth a try, wasn't it? What other choice was there?

He left the restroom quickly, in a sudden panic. Had he already wasted too much time, hiding like a coward? Was he too late? Turning the corner, the answer came to him. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

Hotch had one of the copies in his hands, apparently one of the pull page ones. His brow furrowed darkly over his eyes. That expression was practically unreadable, perhaps it was anger, perhaps it was confusion. It would make sense for it to be both, of course. That glower was bad enough when focused on the paper. Then, he looked up.

"Reid." He choked out the name.

Reid only glanced up for a second, just long enough to see how red Hotch's face was.

_Oh God, he hates me._ Reid turned his gaze away from Hotch, biting his lip, hard.

"I'm not feeling too well," Reid whimpered. "Could I please have the rest of the day off?"

Hotch opened his mouth to speak, but what came out sounded nothing like any language either of them knew. He shook his head. "Reid, I, I think we should talk about this."

"_Please_, Hotch," Reid gritted his teeth, trying not to cry. "Please."

"I'm not mad, Spencer." Hotch's voice was soft. It was beautiful. "Come on, let's go into my office and talk about this."

"I can't go into your office with you! Are you crazy-you, I can't go into your office, Hotch! It would make everything worse, with what they're already saying about me…" He stopped himself when he realized his voice was rising in shrill hysteria. He put his hand over his quivering lips.

Hotch's expression held more kindness and pity than Reid could stand. He wiped the tears from his cheeks. "I'm sick. I need to go home."

Finally, Hotch nodded. "Okay. But I'm going to come by later, to see how you are. Alright?"

Reid shook his head. "Don't. It would be a bad idea." The tears kept rolling down his face. "I'm sick, Hotch, there's something wrong with me and you should just stay away." He brushed passed him, holding his satchel close to his body like a shield.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews and favorite addingness. I'm really happy you liked it. I hope you keep enjoying the story and that I can make all the parts work out well enough! also I tried to email back the people who responded, but I did something funky with my computer and may have accidentally sent some people two emails, because I couldn't tell if my computer had actually sent the first one..._

Part II

Hotch had a sample of the papers laid out on the conference room table. As soon as Reid had left, Hotch set about taking everything down. Garcia and JJ had pitched right in, with the rest of the team following suit, but not without the slightest hesitation, Hotch noticed.

"Okay," Hotch sighed to himself. The task set before him seemed strangely impossible. With all that he had handled in his career, this should have been an easy mystery to solve. But he had absolutely no idea who could have done this to Reid. He ran the faces of the team members through his mind. He couldn't see any of them doing this. But they certainly hadn't helped, reading them out loud and making jokes. _What are you doing, Aaron? You're reading them too, aren't you? _

Perhaps the best thing to do was to just throw the notes away, and dismiss the whole thing as a childish prank. An incredibly cruel prank. He thought of Reid's face, how tortured his expression had been, how humiliated he must feel, and how exposed. He thought of Reid's childhood, the things that others had done to him, things the adults in his life had dismissed as "no big deal", just something every kid has to experience. Reid had finally felt safe when he joined the BAU. But now, would he ever be able to get that feeling of security back?

Hotch knew he couldn't just let it go.

"Garcia?" He called out as he noticed her walking by the open door.

She approached him shyly, "yes sir?"

"There would be security footage from last night, or this morning, showing who did this, right?"

"I already checked, sir, and unfortunately, whoever it was covered the cameras, so you can't see."

Hotch nodded slowly. Of course. It had been too much to hope that the culprit had allowed themselves to be seen.

"You don't think it was anyone on the team who did this, do you, sir?"

Hotch sighed again. "I can't believe it, no." He rubbed his forehead and groaned. "I can't even think clearly. I don't know where to start. This isn't what I expected to be dealing with this morning."

"Or ever," Garcia mumbled. "Is Reid okay?"

Hotch shook his head. "I don't think he is, no. And the worst part is that I can't help him. If I approach him, he'll just feel worse."

Garcia nodded sadly, "Yeah."

There was a brief silence, then Hotch broke himself out of it. "Sorry, Garcia. That's all."

"Yes sir," she said, still sounding sad. Hotch looked at the doorway again; she had gone. He closed the door, and sat down, with Reid's most private thoughts splayed in front of him.

_We all need to blow off steam after an especially grueling case, and Hotch_

_is no exception. This one was especially brutal, and I knew I was in for it. _

"_Come into my office," Hotch tells me. The rest of the team is still in the office, and this makes me nervous, but it would be foolish to do anything but comply._

_As soon as the door closes –he doesn't even lock it- he shoves me to the floor._

"_Up," he orders, "up on your knees."_

_He is unbuckling his belt. He undoes his pants, never taking his eyes off me. Of course I rise to my knees as he tells me. He curls his fist in my hair and pulls me sharply to him. I can't help but cry out in pain. This makes him pull my hair again._

"_Don't you make a sound," he growls. "Unless you want the others to come in here and see you on your knees like a little bitch."_

_He pulls his penis out from behind the thin fabric of his boxers. It is already hard. It seems larger than the last time. It is more beautiful than I remember._

"_Suck," he tells me._

Hotch had begun to sweat. He leaned back in his chair, ashamed of, but rather enjoying the sudden throbbing between his legs. Reid's vulgar words stared back at him. It was almost amusing that this kind of smut had come from Spencer Reid, who everybody thought of as such a prude. Apparently everyone thought wrong.

"Some profilers we are," he said quietly.

"_He has me in his hand and is stroking me hard. I gasp and cling to him_

These words had been magnified and underlined, taking up their own sheet of paper. That, to Hotch, seems almost more offensive. It meant they had gone through Reid's private writing and picked out what to enlarge, what to use to represent the whole. It emphasized the fact that someone had actually read this; they had taken the time to dissect it and were showing off how closely they had paid attention.

"_Tell me you want me to hit you again," he tells me._

"_Hit me." He lets go of my penis. I whimper._

"_Say it _right_, Spencer. Say it right and maybe I'll let you come."_

"_Please, sir, please hit me, sir."_

_He slaps me so hard that my ears begin to ring. The shock is enough to make me ejaculate. I know right away, even through my euphoria, that this is a mistake._

"_You're a very bad boy, Spencer." _

"Agent Hotchner?"

Hotch jumped. He had to suppress a disappointed groan when he realized it was Strauss standing in the doorway. He realized it would probably be more polite to stand, but found himself in a rather embarrassing predicament. He knew, however, that with Strauss in the room, any and all sexual excitement would jump out the window.

"Agent Strauss," he responded, sitting up straighter. "I didn't hear you come in."

"A bit caught up in your work, I see," she stood behind him, her arms crossed. Hotch tried to keep his breathing under control. From where she was standing, it would most certainly be easy for her to notice the surprising state he had found himself in. Luckily, her anxious gaze was fixed on the table. "This is quite a shock, to say the least."

Hotchner nodded. "I can't imagine who would have done this."

Strauss glanced at him for a moment, "This is Agent Reid's handwriting, isn't it?"

"Unmistakably. At first I'd thought maybe someone had copied his handwriting, and that these are fakes, but I don't think they would be able to write _this_ much this well."

Strauss leaned over the table, studying the writing. "What do you want to do about this?"

"Well," Hotch said, "I'd like to find out who did this, if possible, and have them punished."

Strauss gave him a confused look, "I thought you said it was Agent Reid?"

"I mean, I would like to find out who put these copies on the walls," Hotch said. Strauss always managed to frustrate him. He was convinced at times she was being deliberately obtuse.

She was staring at him, looking frustrated herself. "Agent Hotchner, I'm sure there are important cases to see to. I don't want you and your team wasting your time on this."

Hotch could feel his cheeks growing hot. "I understand, ma'am. But with all due respect, Agent Reid has been attacked, emotionally and professionally, and I feel that deserves some of our attention."

"Wait, wait, Hotch, I don't think you understand what I am asking. When I asked what you wanted to do about this, what I meant was, would you like to file a sexual harassment claim?"

"What?" Hotch glared at her, trying to gather his thoughts. He tried to speak, but only frustrated grunts escaped him. Her reaction was baffling. He knew she saw situations differently than he did, he knew that her decisions were often misguided and wrong, but this made him angrier at her than he could remember being. "Ma'am, you do realize these journal entries were _not_ meant to be seen."

"I realize that, Agent Hotchner, but the fact is that Spencer Reid's behaviour is highly inappropriate, and should be dealt with."

"Are you honestly blaming the victim?" Hotch's eyes were darker than usual, his face contorted in anger. "This was taken from his _private_ journal. I never even noticed he had one, so obviously he kept it secret. This is a complete surprise to me, and, if this person had not invaded his privacy in such a despicable way, I still would have no knowledge that writing like this existed." He spat the words out, his breath catching in his throat. His chest was heaving, and he knew that if she did not leave soon, he would say, or do, something that would get him fired.

She stayed silent for a moment. Hotch could tell she was furious with him, but she bit her lips and tried to maintain a calm appearance. She spoke quietly, "I understand you are protective of your team, Aaron, but this needs to be dealt with. I will speak to Agent Reid in the morning."

"You will do no such thing," Hotch said. He stood up, towering over her. "I will not have you make him feel worse than he already feels." He exhaled harshly, "If you go near him, I swear I will have your job."

Strauss recoiled as if he had slapped her. "How dare you. How _dare_ you say that to me. You have forgotten yourself, Agent Hotchner, and you can be sure that my superiors will hear of it."

"Good," Hotch said. He shook his head, at a loss for words. "I have to go," he mumbled. "I need to get out of here."

He threw the door open and walked, in a daze, passed the small cluster of agents who were trying to pretend they hadn't been listening. Strauss left shortly after him, and glared at the gawking onlookers before bitterly telling them to get back to work.


	3. Chapter 3

Hullo everybody! Thank you all again for the reviews and the favouriting and stuff! I was a doofus, and accidentally added the second chapter to one of my older stories, and didn't notice it until about a half hour later, so I'm sorry if people read that other one and were like "…umm…this doesn't fit, at all" and wanted to hit me.

I hope you like this next bit too!

Part III

_I slide my hand beneath my waistband. My breath hitches. I make a show of it, for him. I sigh and let my eyelids flutter sleepily. I know how much he loves watching me touch myself. I love listening to him while I do it. When I'm on my own, masturbation is almost a chore. But when he is watching me, licking his lips and breathing heavily, everything is different. He seems to change. His dark eyes become darker, and he looks frighteningly unfamiliar. He looks almost animalistic. It takes all my willpower not to ejaculate before he wants me to. _

_He enjoys these depraved, impossible games._

"_Hotch," I run my tongue over my lip, "please, can I…please let me come, sir."_

_He grabs me roughly by the back of the neck, and pulls me as close to his lips as possible without kissing me. _

"_I told you not to speak," he hisses. "I will let you come when I'm good and ready."_

Reid sat with the copies in his lap, reading until he felt sick. His eyes ran over the same words again and again until the tears clouded his vision too much to continue the torture.

There was a knock at his door suddenly. "Please go away," he mumbled quietly. He put his hands in his hair and tucked his knees to his chest. The outside world had no business coming into his apartment. The outside world had no business existing at all.

There was another knock. "Reid?"

The now all too familiar feeling of nausea hit him again. He jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. He retched violently, gripping his stomach as tightly as he could.

"Reid? Please open the door," Hotch's voice came gently from the hallway. "Please, I know you're in there."

Reid rinsed his mouth with water and then several times with mouthwash. His mouth and throat burned painfully. He stood back up and caught a look at himself in the mirror. His cheeks looked hollow, and the dark spots under his eyes were more defined.

"You look like death," he said very matter of factly to the reflection in front of him.

The incessant knocking continued, and Hotch called to him louder.

Reid walked cautiously to the door. "Hotch, please leave." He was shocked at how hoarse his voice sounded.

"No, I want us to talk."

Reid cringed. He couldn't stand the idea of opening the door, but he knew Hotch, and Hotch was not the type of man who would leave simply because he told him to. "I really can't do this," He said. He hated himself, but he was beginning to cry again.

"Look, Reid, I can't begin to understand what this must feel like. And I know that my being here is confusing, to say the least, but if we can please just try to clear this up in some way…" Reid could hear him sigh in frustration, then said, in a tone that seemed ludicrously cheerful given the circumstances, "I…brought coffee."

In spite of himself, and in spite of the day, Reid had to smile. "Well," his voice scratched, "If you brought coffee…" He opened the door slowly and peered out. "Hi, Hotch," he whispered.

Hotch smiled and held up the cups of coffee, along with a paper bag. "I thought you might be hungry, so there are some muffins and a couple of danishes in here too."

Reid's stomach twisted at the thought of food, but he tried to smile. "Thanks."

"Can I come in?"

Reid shrugged. "Sure, I suppose." He turned away from the door, clutching his stomach. Hotch couldn't help but notice Reid's thin shoulders and how they were accentuated by his awkward pose. He found himself looking at Reid's arms. He'd never realized before how long they were. He thought that Reid could probably wrap his arms all the way around himself without much difficulty. Of course that was possible; Reid's body was so slender. But, Hotch thought, what if Reid's arms were around him?

"You alright, Hotch?" Reid asked quietly.

"I'm fine," Hotch cleared his throat. "But how are you doing?"

Reid shrugged sadly.

Hotch shook his head. "I am so sorry, Spencer. I- I've been trying all morning to think of who could have done this and, quite frankly, I'm stumped." He set the coffee down on a small table near the couch. He noticed dozens of the crumpled sheets of paper scattered on the table and on the floor. He hadn't wanted to draw attention to them, but without realizing it, stared at them a little too long.

"Please don't look at those," Reid pleaded. His voice sounded so small and frightened, it made Aaron feel he might cry. He wanted, always, to protect him. He obviously had failed, and there was no way for him to make it better. He could not remember a time where he felt so helpless.

"Why do you have these here?" Hotch asked gently.

Reid gave him a bitter smile. "They are mine, aren't they?"

Hotch was struck suddenly by how pale Reid looked. "Have you had anything to eat today?"

That joyless grin was still twisted in Reid's lips. "Quite the opposite, actually." He shuddered. "The idea of food makes me feel physically ill." He remembered the bag that Hotch had brought him and quickly added, "But I'm sure the danishes are delicious. I just can't seem to keep anything down."

Hotch nodded. "I understand." He sat uneasily on the couch. He knew he was probably making things worse, but he couldn't stand the thought of Reid being on his own like this. He didn't want to imagine what Reid might do. He tried to keep the word "dilaudid" from his mind, but, of course, trying not to think of it made the thought that much harder to ignore.

Reid bit his lip awkwardly. He was exhausted and wanted to sit, but he couldn't bear the idea of being close to Hotch. It had always been quite bittersweet, being near him. It was awful, being so powerfully aware of how close he was to the man he wanted, and who he knew would never want him. But being away from him hurt worse. Or, perhaps not worse, but differently. It became an obsessive pain to be away from Hotch. He could try to ignore it, but Hotch was always in his mind, somewhere in his subconscious. He covered his face with his hands and his shoulders jerked. No tears fell, but his body shook with sobs. "Please forgive me," he managed to get out.

Hotch's heart began to pound. This was unbearable. He had never seen Reid in this much obvious pain, even after all they had been through. He stood up and reached out to him, saying his name quietly. His hand rested on Reid's shoulder, but only for a second. Reid gasped in fear, and recoiled from Hotch's touch.

"Don't-" Reid said, backing away.

Hotch could feel tears building in his eyes. He blinked them away. "Spencer, please, what can I do to fix this?"

"What?" Reid's face twisted into a confused and pained expression. "Why would you have to do anything? This is my fault."

"No, it's not." Hotch shook his head, reaching out to Spencer, still edging closer to him. "There's nothing wrong with how you feel, Reid. I know, those were your private thoughts, and they should have stayed that way. Whoever did this, they had no right. I don't think badly of you, not at all."

"You must be joking," Reid said. His voice was so quiet, Hotch could barely hear him. "You…I'm sure you read what I wrote, at least enough to get an idea of what I'm really like." He rubbed his face much harder than was necessary. "There's something wrong with me."

Hotch stepped forward, and grabbed Reid roughly by the shoulders. Reid squirmed, trying to get away, but one look at Hotch's face stilled him. "There is nothing wrong with you," Hotch said slowly and deliberately. Reid was almost comforted by the stern tone; at least it was familiar. "You need to stop doing this to yourself," Hotch continued. "There is nothing wrong with you." He took a deep breath before the plunge, and pulled Reid in for a hug. Reid struggled weakly against him, pushing against Hotch's chest. "No, no, no,"

"Shh, Spencer, it's okay," Hotch said softly.

Reid knew that Hotch wasn't going to let go, but he needed to struggle. He needed Hotch to know he wouldn't take advantage of the slightest attention from him. But Hotch was warm; his arms felt strong and protective. Reid felt, at once, wonderful and awful. He gave in, finally, mostly out of exhaustion. He could be stubborn, but he knew he was nowhere near as stubborn as Hotch.

"How can you stand to touch me?" Reid asked.

"I care about you, Spencer, you know that." Hotch's palms were sweating. He was talking to Reid as if he was in complete control, but he felt lost. This was where Spencer needed to be, held close to him. He needed to know that Hotch would never push him away, no matter what secrets he discovered about him. He felt a surprising desire to bury his face in the crook of Reid's neck, and to run his fingers through Reid's hair. He couldn't, of course. But the desire was so strong, he worried that he had actually done it. "I need you to promise me something," he murmured. "I need you to promise that you won't…that you won't do anything you might regret."

"Like what?" But of course Reid knew what. He couldn't pretend the idea hadn't crossed his mind. He shook his head, shivering when Hotch's hair brushed against his neck. "I don't want to do it again, but…"

"You don't still have any, do you?"

"No."

"Good. Make sure it stays that way, Reid." Hotch could have let go of Reid by now; Reid seemed to have calmed down, he was no longer shaking, but still Hotch held on. It felt good, holding Reid in his arms. It had been a hard day for him too, and being able to hold Reid close to him felt somehow healing.

"Okay." Reid closed his eyes and sunk further into Hotch's embrace.

They stayed like that for a while, silently hugging. It was Reid who finally pulled away.


	4. Chapter 4

Part IV

Hotch wasn't surprised when Reid didn't show up for work the next day. He wasn't surprised, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried. The other agents could sense it, of course, and warily approached him with questions.

"Have you talked to our boy, Hotch?" Morgan asked.

"Yes, I called him yesterday," Hotch said. He hadn't intended to lie; it just came out. It seemed, though, that it was probably better not to mention he'd gone to Reid's apartment. He knew that it had been innocent, but they could possibly read too much into it.

Prentiss frowned in concern, "How's he doing?"

"Not very well, I don't think."

"Can you imagine?" Prentiss mused to herself. "Poor Reid." She paused, then asked "Do you know who did it?"

Hotch shook his head, "I've been trying to figure it out, but it just doesn't make sense. I don't think Reid has enemies, at least, none that aren't behind bars."

"Well, what would their motive be?" Prentiss continued. "Apart from the obvious, of course, which is humiliation. But, I don't know, maybe I'm overanalyzing, but it seems there must be more to it than that."

"I agree," Hotch said, "just what that is, I have no idea."

"You wanted to see me?" Hotch stood in Strauss's doorway, not bothering to hide his lack of enthusiasm.

"Yes, Aaron, please have a seat." Strauss said, matching his icy disposition. "I understand you spoke with Spencer Reid yesterday afternoon."

"I did. How did you know that?"

"I heard you speaking with your team about it," she replied, ignoring the glares he was shooting in her direction. "How is he?"

"He's not very well, ma'am. He's, understandably, quite devastated."

Strauss nodded coolly. "Have you any idea of his plans regarding his future at the BAU?"

"I wish I did, but I could not get him to discuss it with me." Hotch felt his stomach turning. She was up to something. This meeting wasn't so she could ask what Reid's favourite flowers were, or favourite fruit, so she could send along a care package. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Why?" Strauss wrinkled her forehead, "Because you're his boss, Aaron. I need to know when, or if, your subordinate will be able to return to work. And, if he returns to work, will he be able to perform his duties?"

Hotch's jaw tightened. "Reid's invaluable to this team. _When_ he is feeling fit to return to work, we will be glad to have him back."

"It's not that simple, Aaron, and you know it. How will he work with the other team members? He doesn't know who pulled this stunt, and neither do you, really. It could be someone on your team. How will he be able to work with them when he doesn't even trust them?"

"He trusts them, and so do I. They wouldn't do anything to hurt Reid."

Strauss tilted her head, "How do you know?"

"Because they have no reason to. Our team is more like a family than a group of coworkers. I've tried to explain this to you I don't know how many times-"

"I don't appreciate your tone, Aaron," she snapped. "Yes, you are always defending your team, but things like this always seem to be happening." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And what about Dr. Reid's drug problem?"

Hotch sat up straighter in his chair. "What about it?"

"Well, I'm sure that such an intense stressor as this would trigger a relapse. You've thought of this, of course?"

"Yes, it's crossed my mind. But, like I said, our team is a family. We will keep an eye on him."

"I don't need you babysitting a member of your team, Aaron. I need you to do your job."

Hotch stood up, raising his voice at her in increasing frustration. "We do our jobs very well, and I think it's about time you gave us some credit for that." He laughed bitterly. "You really have it out for our team, don't you? What is it that you hate about us so much?"

"Don't be juvenile, Aaron. I don't _hate_ the team." She stood up to match him, leaning against her desk. "Your team is crumbling, and you know it. You just don't want to admit it." Her eyes looked wild. Hotch had never, in all his encounters with Strauss, seen her look this furious. "Just like you don't want to admit that Dr. Reid has to take some responsibility for what has happened." Hotch tried to interrupt her. He cried out against her with indignation, saying that Reid could not possibly be blamed for what happened. Her voice rose shrilly over his, "Aaron, _he_ chose to write his fantasies down in that journal. _He_ chose to bring that journal to work. _He_ chose to leave that notebook in his desk. If he hadn't done those things, no one would have plastered the walls with this filth!"

Hotch blinked hard. The air felt heavy, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

Strauss mistook his silence as acceptance, thinking he had come to his senses at long last. "You have to give him some share of the responsibility, Agent Hotchner."

Hotch stared at her in horror. "What do you mean, he chose to bring his journal to work? I never saw him writing anything in a journal, at least, not when it wasn't related to a case."

Strauss exhaled sharply. "Well, how else would someone have gotten hold of it?"

"I-" Hotch felt dizzy as the realization settled into him. "How did you know he kept it in his desk? I never…I'm not in the habit of combing through my Agents' desks. Why did you say that was where he kept it?"

"I am only assuming, Aaron! How else would someone have gotten it?" Her voice was rising higher and her cheeks were deep pink.

Hotch stared at her in disgust. "Oh my _God_. That's why you came in to see me, to ask if I wanted to file sexual harassment against Reid. _That's_ why you were asking about his drug- oh my God." He put his hand over his mouth, feeling suddenly very ill. "You were….you were hoping he would relapse, weren't you?"

Strauss's voice was deep and furious, "You watch yourself, Agent Hotchner. You are making some very dangerous accusations that you are in no position to make."

"You have always had an issue with this team and how we operate. You are always trying to pit us against each other. You are always creating problems so that you can get rid of whoever you don't approve of or whoever you see as a threat." He was shouting loudly now, not caring who heard. He, in fact, hoped that the entire office would hear.

Strauss walked to the door and opened it. "I would appreciate it if you would leave now, Aaron."

"You…" Hotch grasped at his hair. His head was spinning. He could barely breathe. "I can't believe…I knew you were capable of sinking pretty low, but this…this is sociopathic. Do you understand? You are like the people that we put away. You are a cold, calculating bitch and you…why Reid? Why did you do this to him?"

Strauss looked at the floor silently, refusing to meet Hotch's gaze. Her face was still flaming pink.

"It was because he would be easy to devastate, wasn't it? Because you know what he's been through, and how much of a struggle it has been for him to learn to trust us. You knew that trust was a fragile thing, and you destroyed it." His voice was quieter now. It was a cold fury, an absolute disdain that he could not keep secret. He could not believe the hatred that he felt inside himself. It terrified him. He thought of Reid sitting at home, too sick to even eat, too ashamed to look at him, and he had to suppress the desire to hit Strauss across the face as hard as he could.

"You don't have proof of-" She started

"Don't you dare speak." Hotch said, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't you dare." He laughed coldly, "And what is this, we 'don't have proof'? Did you forget what we do for a living? What the team and I are so very good at? We study the behavior and the mind of psychopathic geniuses just about every day. Whereas you, well, you're not very clever, Strauss. I'm sure someone saw you hanging those pictures. Or," he chuckled, "you probably bribed some poor janitor to do it for you, so they would take the fall for it instead of you, if anything more came of this."

Something flashed across her face. It was a small change, but that was all it took to betray her.

Hotch laughed again, "Was that it? Like I said, you're not very clever. Well, let me tell you this, Strauss. You have your superiors, don't you? You like to pretend you don't, but you do, and I'm going to have a little chat with them. I'm going to tell them about this charming prank, and how you were purposely trying to bring about a drug relapse in a young, vulnerable agent of ours." He stepped in closer to her, his sharp breath on her face. He whispered,"I will absolutely destroy you."

He had to again resist the urge to strike her, or to spit on her. He left the office, slamming the door behind him.

_A.N. Hey guys! I hope you liked this chapter. I was kind of dreading it; I wanted to make the reveal work, so I hope it came across reasonably without any OOCness…_

_More is coming! I hope you are still enjoying stuff._


	5. Chapter 5

Part V

"Another one," Hotch said to the bartender, motioning at his drink. He was glad the bartender simply did as asked, and didn't give him a concerned expression that was probably warranted.

He had come to the bar after his encounter with Strauss. Initially, he had planned to go straight to Reid's apartment, to tell him he had solved the mystery for him. But something had stopped him. He didn't know if it was fear, or the sudden thought that Reid might not appreciate the news.

Home didn't seem remarkably appealing. He didn't want to be alone at the moment, though he didn't really want to talk to anyone, either. He simply wanted to sit, to be left alone, surrounded by people and voices and chatter, but without any sort of intimacy. A bar it was, then.

He didn't look at his watch once. He didn't want to know how much time he was spending there. He didn't count his drinks. He wanted to drink so much that it didn't matter how much he'd had. He just needed his mind to stop for a while.

"I need a vacation," Hotch's voice rang out. It was a thought meant only for himself, confirming the very important decision he had just made, but he said it loudly enough to startle the people on either side of him. He, of course, didn't notice any of them. He didn't notice the sky growing darker, or the dwindling number of fellow bar hoppers.

He drank, and thought of Reid. He thought of all that Reid brought to the team. Reid was a fucking genius wasn't he? "Jesus, he's smart," Hotch grumbled into his drink. Reid's memory, Reid's interest in just about everything and his enthusiasm about facts, these things and more made Spencer Reid one of the oddest men Hotch had ever met. He suspected Reid had always been this way, which made it no wonder that he had been picked on as a child. Kids had an uncanny ability to pick out weaknesses in others, and most would use this to their sadistic advantage. Hotch chuckled loudly, "Kids aren't much different than adults I guess!"

Strauss knew Reid was vulnerable. It hadn't been difficult for her to crush him. She wasn't that smart, and yet, she'd somehow defeated a genius. But, of course, it wasn't Reid's fault. He had no reason to suspect he was at war with a ruthless, sadistic bitch.

Hotch reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He smoothed it out and placed it on his lap. Even through his drunken haze, he knew what it said was special, and not meant for anyone else to see. The worlds ran together and swayed, but he didn't need to read it to know what it said. He had read it countless times already. It was one of Reid's fantasies; one that Hotch felt particularly aroused by. He hated himself for it. He was disgusted by his reaction to Reid's stories. He had tried to ignore the way his body responded, but failed. Earlier at work, he'd needed to excuse himself. He shut himself up in the bathroom, and once locked in a stall, began to masturbate. He had leaned against the grey metal divider, his head thrown back, his eyes closed in frustration that quickly turned to bliss as he came. He came thinking of Reid on his knees, sucking and lapping at Hotch's dick. When he came, he imagined his orgasm covering Reid's face. He imagined how surprised Reid would look, at first. Then his surprise would turn to delight. Reid would be touching himself. "Will you take care of me now, please, Aaron?" Reid would say.

"I think there is something wrong with me," Hotch said. He took another swig, closing his eyes tightly. He shook his head, and put Reid's paper back into his pocket. He sighed loudly, before asking the bartender for another drink. Here he finally got the look of concern he had long been expecting.

"I don't think you should, sir," he said.

Hotch glared at him. It was a glare that so often worked on his subordinates, on unsubs, and on local law enforcement. It even occasionally worked on his superiors, but it wasn't working tonight.

"Come on," the bartender said in an amiable tone, "Let me call a cab to come pick you up."

Hotch put his hand up and shook his head. "I don't need a cab. I'm fine."

The bartender raised an eyebrow at him, "All due respect, sir, but you are far from it. C'mon man, I'm not letting you drive home."

Hotch slumped in his seat and rested his chin on his hand. "Fine," he grunted. He sat in silence for a while. He didn't want to go home. He felt restless, like there was something he still needed to do, but that something was escaping him at the moment. The alcohol certainly wasn't helping.

_Hotch is inside me,_ the paper had said. _Aaron Hotchner is on top of me, his fingers wrapped tightly in my hair and pulling my head back against his chest. He is finally inside of me. I can hear him panting as he nibbles my ear._

Hotch groaned. He put his head in both hands. It was as if he had not quite understood before what Spencer's notes meant. When he read them, he was, naturally, shocked. But he had quickly shifted into his Boss persona, dealing with it as a team leader, almost dissociating himself from the writing on the page. He had not allowed himself to understand what it meant: Spencer Reid wanted him.

"What do I do?" Hotch moaned. _What do I want to do?_ He would have to have a talk with Reid. He'd tell him he was flattered, that Reid was a very special person, blah blah blah. He would have to let him down easy. But the thought of that made him feel like crying.

He flinched when the bartender touched his shoulder. "Sir, the cab's outside waiting for you."

Hotch nodded, and absent mindedly left money for the bartender on the table. He stumbled out of the bar and into the cab waiting by the sidewalk. He was quiet for a minute or so, not realizing he needed to tell the driver where to take him.

"Somewhere you need to go?"

Hotch glanced up, "Yes." He leaned forward dizzily, and gave the driver Spencer Reid's address.

A.N. Sorry this is a kind of short chapter. More is on the way! Thank you all so much for the reviews and for reading my silly little story in the first place.


	6. Chapter 6

Part VI

"Reid! Reid, open the door!"

Spencer jumped out of bed, not entirely sure if he was dreaming or not. He steadied himself on his feet and shuffled into the hallway, grabbing his gun from the bureau as he went. He walked as softly as he could, jumping each time whoever it was banged on the door.

"C'mon, Spencer," the voice slurred loudly, "let me in!"

Reid stopped. _Hotch?_ It sounded like him, but it couldn't be. He sounded too loud and stupid, and, what time was it? Reid glanced at the clock; almost midnight. There was no reason for Hotch to be here this late. "Who is it?" He asked, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.

The person sighed irritably, "It's Hotch, Reid. Come on." He banged on the door again, "Reid!" He let out a strange, unsettling laugh. "Now now, do I have to knock this door down?"

"It's really late," Reid said. "What do you want?"

"Please," Hotch's voice was sad now, and pleading. "Can I please come in?"

Reid took a deep breath. This was a bad idea. Hotch was very clearly drunk. Reid had never seen him like this before. He didn't want the situation to become even more awkward, or worse, dangerous. But he couldn't turn him away, either. Hotch was in no position to be out on the street, trying to find his way home. That would most definitely be dangerous. Hesitantly, Reid unlocked the door and opened it. He found Hotch slumped on the floor, leaning against the doorway.

Hotch smiled up at him. "You look nice!" He said, pointing at him enthusiastically.

Reid couldn't help but smile, despite, or perhaps because of, the oddness of the situation. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Hotch shook his head. "No, not at all."

A neighbor was looking at them from their doorway, and another came thundering down the stairs. "It's the middle of the fucking night!" They hissed.

"I know, Mr. Decker, I'm sorry," Reid whispered. "Come on, Hotch, let's get you inside." He crouched down and put Hotch's arm around his shoulders. Hotch stood up shakily, leaning against Reid far more than Reid suspected was necessary. Reid took him inside and helped him to the couch. He got up to make sure the door was locked, and when he turned around, he saw Hotch taking his jacket off and stretching out on the couch. Reid gulped. He'd never seen Hotch this way. Reid didn't even realize that Hotch had this side to him, a side that had no sense of decorum. The Hotch Reid knew would never turn up at a subordinate's home in the dead of night, loud and drunk, stretching comfortably on said subordinate's couch in a way that was almost wanton.

"I'll get you a blanket," Reid managed to say. The sight of Hotch in such a lascivious pose was affecting him more than he cared for, and it was better if he walked away for a moment.

"Wait," Hotch slurred, sitting up and grabbing onto Reid's wrist. "Siddown, I need to talk to you."

_This is a bad idea, this is bad…_but still Reid sat. His heart was pounding. Maybe this was it. Maybe the meaning of Reid's journals had finally sunk in, and now Hotch was going to give him hell for it. Reid didn't have any reason to expect him to turn violent, but there was always that possibility, and he kept himself on guard.

"Reid, I've been doing a lot of thinking," Hotch started. He still held onto Reid's wrist, but the grip was gentle. "Reid." He pulled on his arm, as if he didn't realize Spencer was already paying close attention. "I have _never _kissed a man before."

Reid's breathing quickened. "Okay?"

"Not even once! Remember that, alright?" He was staring deeply into Reid's eyes, but of course, Reid knew there was nothing to it. Hotch wasn't entirely there, after all. Still, the intense gaze was disconcerting.

Hotch frowned, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Okay." He said to himself.

Reid didn't even get a chance to flinch. Hotch clamped his hands on either side of Reid's face, and pulled him in for a rough kiss. Reid let out a muffled sound of surprise, his eyes flying open in shock. He halfheartedly tried to push his boss away. "Hotch," he managed to gasp between kisses. Hotch pressed Spencer back into the couch, running his fingers through Reid's hair, opening his lips and letting his tongue slide against Reid's mouth.

"Hotch," Reid sighed again, "Hotch, no." His hands stopped trying to push him away. His fingers curled behind the back of Hotch's neck as he kissed him back desperately. He let out moans of pleasure and disbelief. He couldn't stop smiling through the kisses. Hotch's hands were all over him. He began to kiss Reid's cheek, his fingers running along Reid's throat. He buried his face in the crook of Reid's neck, kissing him awkwardly. Reid noticed Hotch was grinding slightly, but in his position could not get any friction from Reid's body. He wanted to adjust himself so they could feel each other. He wanted to tear Hotch's clothes off and rub against him, and touch him. Hotch's hands began to travel down Reid's chest, and through the kisses and the moaning, Reid felt a sudden panic rise in him.

"No, Hotch, we can't do this," He pushed Hotch away decisively, moving away from him.

Hotch groaned. "Please, touch me, Spencer." He grabbed Reid's hand and tried to bring it between his legs. "I know you want to. I want you to, please just touch me." He sat on top of Reid suddenly, straddling him. His hips ground into Reid's lap, and he brought his gasping mouth to Reid's again.

_Oh God. _Reid's eyes closed. He leaned his head back, giving into the kiss for a moment, wrapping his arms around Hotch's waist. "No," he moaned. "We can't, you're drunk. Hotch, it wouldn't be right."

"Yes it would," Hotch resumed nibbling and sucking on Reid's neck. "I want to do all those things to you, all those things you wrote about." His hands ran up Reid's arms, pinning them against the back of the couch. "Come on, Spencer," he whispered, "let me do those things to you. Spence, please. I want to make love to you. I want to make love to you, and then, and then I want to fuck you."

Reid's head was spinning. He couldn't form a coherent thought other than _Please, Hotch, please fuck me._ But he couldn't say that to him. He tried to choke out "Stop", but it came out as an unintelligible sigh.

"Do you want me to, Spencer?"

He nodded dizzily, "Y-yes," _No, you can't._ He opened his eyes again, as reality hit him. Hotch didn't know what he was doing. He was drunker than anyone Reid had ever seen, and to go any farther with him right now would be, technically, rape. He wasn't as strong as Hotch, and he was certainly lacking in willpower, but he knew he had to stop what was happening. "No. No, Hotch, please, we have to stop." He said in a much more determined voice than before.

Hotch leaned back, looking hurt and confused. "But-but you want to."

Reid nodded, licking his lips and trying to will away the painful throbbing between his legs. "Yes, I do, Hotch, more than anything in the world, but I can't. Not like this." He slid out from beneath his boss, saying "You're not yourself. You wouldn't want this if you were sober." He closed his eyes to keep himself from crying in frustration.

"I want it, Spencer," Hotch said. His voice sounded angry and indignant, but he was too woozy to put up much of a protest.

"Come on," Reid said, keeping a decisive tone in his voice. "You can stay in my room, tonight. I'll stay on the couch," he added quickly.

"Reid, please." Reid noticed a tear falling down Hotch's cheek. "I want to…I want it."

Reid cautiously put Hotch's arm over his shoulders again and led him into his room. "Let's get your shoes off, okay, Hotch?" He said gently. It was torture, the way Aaron was looking at him, full of lust. Reid had never dared hope to see Aaron look at him like that. _He's drunk, Spencer. It doesn't mean anything,_ Reid had to tell himself. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Stay with me, please?" Hotch reached out to try to pull Reid towards him.

Reid shook his head. "I can't, Hotch. Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

Before he let his mind change and his resolve fade, he turned and left the room. Shutting a door had never been so difficult in his entire life.

_A.N. I hope you liked this bit! I had a different part (the next scene, essentially) written up but I wanted to write about Hotch's drunken advances too much, hehehe…._


	7. Chapter 7

_I'm so glad you guys liked drunk Hotch :D He was a lot of fun to write. _

Part VII

Hotch woke up with an astonishingly painful headache. He tried to open his eyes, but closed them immediately, groaning in pain. Why was it so bright? He must have forgotten to close the shades the night before. He wouldn't be making that mistake again anytime soon.

He rolled onto his side and pulled the blanket over his head. The down comforter settled crisply around him.

_Wait a minute, _he thought.

He didn't have a down comforter.

He tore the blanket off of his face and sat up far too quickly. He let out another cry of pain and shut his eyes again. He didn't need to see to know he wasn't in his room.

He heard someone approaching him. "You're up."

Hotch tried to open his eyes, and he could, painfully, make out the blurry figure of Spencer Reid.

"I'm…" Hotch frowned. His voice was scratchy, and practically unrecognizable. He cleared his throat and continued groggily, "How did I get here?"

"A taxi dropped you off, I think," Reid said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Okay, fine," Hotch said, "But, no, _why _am I here?"

Reid shrugged. "You turned up in the middle of the night. You were banging on the door and shouting…_really _loudly." He chuckled a little, "I think my reputation as the quietest tenant in the building may have been ruined."

Hotch groaned, "I'm sorry, Reid. I'm really sorry." He sighed and shook his head. "What did I- did I say anything?"

Reid looked down at his feet and shifted awkwardly, "You were pretty drunk, Hotch. A lot of what you said…it didn't make much sense."

Hotch was quiet for a moment, trying to form his thoughts in some kind of linear way. There was something he needed to know, but was terrified to bring up. The question itself scared him, and having to ask it out loud was worse, but the need for an answer was too strong. He cleared his throat again, nervously, and asked in a barely audible voice, "Did anything happen?"

"What do you mean?" Reid asked quietly.

"Reid, please, you know what I mean. Just…tell me."  
>"Of course nothing happened." He sighed, refusing to look at him. "I'm going to let you get ready. You probably need to leave soon."<p>

Hotch laughed drily. "I don't think I'll be going in today."

"Fine," Reid said. "I'm just going to step outside, though, and let you get dressed." He quickly added, "I only helped you with your shoes, just so you know. That was it."

Hotch gave him a sad smile. "Thanks, Spencer."

Reid shut the door carefully, cursing himself in his head. Of course Hotch wouldn't have thought anything of being in his undershirt and boxers. The thought that Reid might have played any part in undressing him had probably never crossed Hotch's mind. Until Reid said something, of course.

He didn't know what to make of the question Hotch had asked him. His first reaction was to be offended; Hotch had to know Reid would never take advantage of him like that. Did Hotch not trust him?  
>It was an odd question, to be sure. Reid gasped slightly. The question meant that Hotch saw a possibility of something happening, didn't it? This was sober Hotch. Hung over, yes, but back to his old self. Sober, rational Hotch thought there was a possibility that he and Reid had crossed a line. He knew Hotch couldn't think Reid would have tried anything. Hotch knew him too well for that.<p>

Which meant, what sober Hotch was asking was "Did I do anything?"

It was a good thing he hadn't asked that. Reid didn't know if he could answer him truthfully.

_You were drunk, Hotch,_ he'd have to say. _I know you didn't mean it when you sat in my lap and forced your tongue down my throat. _

Reid poured himself more coffee, and a cup for Hotch, who was making his way out of the bedroom. The sight of Hotch made his heart pound. Hotch, dazed as he was, looked beautiful. His horribly wrinkled white button down shirt was open, exposing the clinging tee shirt he'd worn to bed. His work pants, equally wrinkled, were hanging lower on his hips than usual, and his belt remained unbuckled.

Hotch groaned and leaned against the wall. "I can't tell you how horribly embarrassed I am, Spencer."

"I think I know something about being embarrassed," Reid smiled bitterly. "Don't worry."

"No, my behavior was horribly inappropriate. There is no excuse for what I did, I'm so sorry." He sat down on the couch and rubbed his eyes. His head was pounding. "Did you have to sleep out here?"

"Of course I slept out here," Reid retorted. "I wouldn't have slept in the same bed with you, just because you were drunk, Hotch."

Hotch blushed. "That…no, that's not what I meant, Reid. I just meant I'm so sorry that you slept out here, because of me."

"Oh," Reid said, a deep pink spreading across his cheeks too. "I'm sorry. This week has been really difficult."

"I understand." Hotch tried to get comfortable on the couch, but couldn't hide how ill at ease he was. "I'm afraid to ask, but, how big a fool did I make of myself last night?"

Reid sat down on the opposite end of the couch, as far from Hotch as he could get. "You were fine," he said quietly. "A little loud, but that was it."

Hotch looked up at him intently, "I know when you're lying, Spencer. Please, don't feel you have to lie, to make me feel better. I was a horrible imposition, and, God, I'm your boss, and look how I behaved-"

"Please stop with the superior and subordinate thing," Reid grumbled. "It's fine and I'm glad you're safe and didn't try to drive last night."

Hotch moved a little closer to Reid, turning to face him. "I can tell something is bothering you. Will you please talk to me?"

Reid pursed his lips angrily. Hotch kept apologizing for being such an inconvenience the night before, but didn't realize that now he was making it worse.

"It was just…weird, that's all," Reid finally said.

"Weird how?"  
>"Jesus, Hotch! I don't know, just weird."<p>

"I'm sorry I keep pushing, I just, I have this awful feeling that I did something, and how I acted…I'm afraid I ruined everything between us."

Reid looked up at him and blinked a few times in shock, "_You_ ruined everything? I'm pretty certain it was me who ruined everything with, well, you know," He rested his elbow on the arm of the couch and leaned away from Hotch. When his head tilted to the side, Hotch noticed something strange.

"What's that?" he pointed, moving closer to Reid.

"Hm?" Reid questioned absentmindedly. When he realized what Hotch was talking about, he straightened up and tried to move away.

"Let me see," Hotch demanded gently. He reached out and pulled at the collar of Reid's tee shirt. He pretended not to notice the way Reid shivered when Hotch's fingers brushed against his skin. He ran his thumb softly over the dark reddish purple mark on Reid's neck. Hotch attempted a playful smile, "When did this happen, Dr. Reid?"

He immediately hated himself. Reid looked so uncomfortable, Hotch thought he might cry. "Did I," Hotch paled, knowing the answer before he even asked the question," did I do this?"

Reid averted his eyes. "You were drunk, Hotch, you, um, you-" he cleared his throat and fidgeted nervously. "You kissed me, Hotch, on the…on the lips, and then, yeah, you did this." He didn't need to look at Hotch to know how disgusted he must be. "But, I swear, Hotch, I swear to you that nothing more than that happened. You have to believe me; I didn't let anything continue. You have to know I wouldn't take advantage of you." He glanced up and saw how horrified Hotch was. He'd gone paler and his lips were shivering.

"_You_ wouldn't take advantage? Oh, God. Reid, I, how can I ever apologize enough for what I did to you? Jesus Christ, I don't even remember any of this…how could I-why did I do that?"

"I don't know," Reid said softly. He didn't want Hotch to know how badly he had wanted to take advantage of the situation. He couldn't tell him that he'd only feigned resistance when his drunken boss had kissed his neck desperately, clinging to him and running his hands all over his body. He couldn't tell Hotch how he'd leaned his head back and moaned blissfully when Hotch nibbled and sucked on his neck.

_"I want to make love to you, Spencer," Hotch had slurred in his ear. "I want to make love to you, and then, I want to fuck you."_

Reid found himself smiling dumbly as he thought of that particular point of the evening. He stopped when he remembered Sober Hotch was watching him. Sober Hotch, who knew nothing about this. Who didn't know that after very chastely setting his boss up in his room, he had needed to go into the bathroom to jerk off, so he wouldn't do something remarkably stupid and succumb to drunk Hotch's advances.

No. Sober Hotch didn't need to know any of this. And Reid would do better just pretending it hadn't happened. It hurt like hell, knowing it hadn't meant anything. Hotch had been drunk out of his mind, and didn't know what he was doing.

_But he came to your apartment,_ his mind said. _He came to your apartment, and he called you by name when he said he wanted to-_

"Hotch?" Reid's voice rose in concern. His boss had his face resting in his palms, and his shoulders were shaking. "Are you crying?" He moved closer to him and hesitantly put his hand on his back. "Hotch, please don't cry."

"I'm so sorry, Reid," he sobbed. "I am _so_ sorry. Please forgive me."

Reid delicately rubbed Hotch's back, hoping he wouldn't notice. "There's nothing to forgive, really. It's okay."

Hotch raised his tear streaked face to look at Reid. "But, if what I did hurt you, in any way, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

Reid gave him a warm, genuine smile. "I keep telling you, I'm stronger than you think I am."

"I know you are." Hotch smiled back and took Reid's hand in his own. "This has been one hell of a week."

"You're telling me." Reid hoped his voice didn't sound as odd to Hotch as it did to him. The way he was distractedly holding Reid's hand, fidgeting with it, it was as if he was purposefully trying to keep Reid from breathing and thinking normally.

He was so busy staring at the small circles Hotch was tracing over Reid's hand with his thumb, that he almost didn't hear him when he said, "I'm so confused, Spencer."

Reid hardly dared look up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," Hotch laughed nervously. "I don't know what I'm trying to say." He shook his head. "I should, um…I should go." He gave Reid's hand a quick squeeze before standing up.

"Oh," Reid said. He knew he wouldn't be able to hide his disappointment, so he didn't even try. "Are you sure? You don't have to, you're welcome to stay, if you'd like."

Hotch gave him an odd, sad smile. "It's probably best if I go home. But, really, Reid, thank you again so much for taking care of me. You're a good friend." He gave him one more sad smile before walking out the door.

Reid collapsed back onto the couch. The couch he had come so close to making love with his boss on. What would have happened if he had let things "run their course", so to speak? If he had allowed Hotch his drunken desires and they had woken up together, naked and wrapped in each other's arms? Would that night have been worth it? _Of course not,_ Reid tried to tell himself. _That wasn't Hotch last night, you idiot. He didn't know what he was doing. If you'd let things continue, you would have ruined any future professional, platonic relationship with him forever. _"He'd never trust me again," Reid said to himself.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned. The couch was not meant for someone as tall as he was, and that, coupled with the knowledge that Hotch was sleeping so near to him, had kept him from getting a decent night's sleep.

He wandered into his bedroom, and what he saw made him grin. Hotch had, in a very haphazard way, made the bed after getting dressed. Reid climbed under the blankets and buried his face in one of the pillows. "It smells like you," he whispered, and fell into a comfortable sleep.

_A.N. I hope you guys liked this part! I was/am having a bit of a writer's block problem, but wanted to plow through it because otherwise I get frustrated and never get on with anything…._

_Thank you again for all the reading and reviewing and favouriting! _


	8. Chapter 8

Part VIII

Hotch had initially been prepared to do something productive with his day off. He thought he would tackle the ever increasing mess that was his house, or maybe finish the paperwork he had been putting off. He firmly told himself that once he was home, he would do something worthwhile, something normal, to get his mind back on track.

Instead, he pulled out the folded sheet from his pocket and read it for, possibly, the hundredth time. He couldn't stop. It was like a song stuck in his head. He could trick himself into thinking if he just played it _one more time_, it would stop looping and let him have peace. It never worked with annoying Rolling Stones tunes, and it wasn't working now.

_He is finally inside of me_, it says. _Finally_. How long had Spencer harbored these desires?  
>Hotch shifted on his couch, tugging at his pant leg. Why did he continue to read this? It always provoked a rather shameful reaction in his body, one that he always failed to ignore. He read it through once, and then started again.<p>

"_Please, Hotch, no," I plead with him. But I can't even convince my own body that I don't want this. I am aching with desire, and I hate myself for it. I hate him for doing this to me._

_He reaches down between my legs and wraps his beautiful hand around my penis. My hips jerk forward, into the floor. He has me pinned. I can't escape. _

"_Don't you dare say 'no' to me, Spencer, or I will make you sorry. Do you understand?"_

_I nod, crying. The handcuffs are digging painfully into my wrists._

_He tightens his grip on my now equally painful erection. I cry out again, my hips trying to jerk away from him._

"_Don't just nod, Spencer. Tell me you understand."  
>I nod frantically, "I understand, Hotch, I understand, please just let me go."<em>

_He makes a tsk-tsk sound. "You know I can't do that." He is pumping me hard and I feel I might come soon. I am grinding my hips into the floor, into his grip, and I am crying because I know this is wrong. But I want it. I want him._

"_Spread your legs." He tells me. And I do.  
>There is a weighted moment of nothingness, and then everything hurts. I scream as he pushes into me. I can't tell if he has used lubricant or not. It hurts it hurts but he is still stroking me and it's heaven…<em>

"_Shh, my sweet boy," he purrs. He is pushing in and out now. "There's a good boy." He grunts lustfully. "You're so good, Spencer, you feel so good…"_

Hotch stared at the word as if he had never seen them before. He, quite absentmindedly, had unbuckled his pants and slid his hand beneath the waistband. He rolled his head back and he stroked himself. He hated that the image of Reid, naked, handcuffed, vulnerable, crying in pain…oh God. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever thought of.

Why did Spencer want to be hurt? That was a theme, he'd noticed, in Spencer's journal entries. They all involved him being hurt or humiliated in some way. He understood BDSM desires, but always in an abstract way. He understood them from a purely psychological point of view. He couldn't apply them to his life in any real way, and he couldn't pin his idea of a sexual masochist onto Spencer Reid. _But it fits, doesn't it?_ He thought to himself. He didn't want to sit with that thought too long. If he did, he would have to wonder what it was in himself that made his heart pound when he thought of hurting or humiliating Reid. This newly discovered fantasy wouldn't leave him alone. It had him constantly on the edge of what he could only think of as a sexual breakdown.

"_Hotch please stop." I am crying now. "Please, Aaron, you're hurting me."_

Hotch licked his lips and closed his eyes. "I want it I want it" he murmured over again.

After he came he got into the shower. The water was much hotter than necessary, but it felt good. He could pretend that washing his body meant something more. He could tell himself that the mistakes he'd made the last few days were being sucked down the drain with the soap in the dirt. He could tell himself that this was a good way to start fresh.

But it was in the shower he noticed some strange bruises on his chest and arms. He frowned, looking down at them. He turned off the shower and wiped the fog off the mirror. One bruise was quite clear. _Is that a hand print?_ He squinted and looked down at his chest, and then back at the mirror. "What the hell?"

He thought back to the –he shuddered to think of it – the hickey he'd left on Reid's neck. He thought back to Reid's behaviour, and how nervous he'd seemed. He hadn't wanted to talk about the night before. He avoided eye contact, even more than usual.

_"You have to believe me," he'd said. "I didn't let anything continue." _

"Oh God," Hotch looked at himself in disgust. "He had to push me off of him!" He wanted to punch the mirror. He wanted to punch himself. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He began to pace back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck violently.

Obviously, he'd gotten far too drunk. That much was clear. He'd gotten so drunk that he couldn't remember what he'd done, or how he had even gotten to Spencer's place. He didn't remember kissing Reid on the lips, let alone sucking on his neck. What else had he done? He'd forced himself on his incredibly vulnerable subordinate, who'd had to fight him off and forcibly shove him away. And then, because he was a good person, Reid had put himself at risk by allowing him to stay at his apartment.

"What is wrong with me?" Hotch repeated, louder. He threw the bathroom door open, wincing at the sudden burst of cold air. He picked up the phone and dialed Reid's number without thinking.

"Reid? Reid, it's Hotch." He could hear Reid breathing on the other end, and knew that he was probably baffled. "I…I need to come over, again, Reid, is that okay?"

"I-um, sure?"

"Okay. Be there soon." Hotch put the phone down before Reid could form a response.

_A.N. Sorry this is another stupidly short one! I just have a feeling that the next chapter is gonna be a bit longer and I want to make sure I get it right, so to speak, and wanted to throw something out there! I'm going to work on the next part right after this one, so hopefully it'll be up tonight or you all again so much for continuing to read this. You're all awesome. _


	9. Chapter 9

_H'lo everybody! I'm sorry this took so long. I'd had a whole thing written up, but didn't like it and so I had to start from scratch. But then I ended up incorporating some of that in this version, too. I hope you like it! It's twice as long as normal…_

Part IX

_ When did standing at Reid's door become such a habit?_ Hotch found himself wondering. An older woman walked by, giving him a strange look. Hotch smiled and nodded pleasantly at her, but something about him must have unnerved her. She silently went into her own apartment, and he could hear the locks turning from the other side.

When Reid answered his own door, Hotch's heart leapt. _This is stupid,_ he told himself. _It's not like you're picking Reid up for prom, for Christ sakes. _

"What's wrong?" Reid asked nervously. Hotch couldn't help but notice that Reid refused to look at him. He also couldn't help but notice how well Reid's deep red sweater vest suited him.

"Can I come in, please?" Hotch tried to keep his voice soft and non-threatening. It sounded so unlike him that it only made both of them more uncomfortable.

"Yeah, okay," Reid stepped back and let him in. He kept his gaze on the floor, shrinking away a little when Hotch walked by him. Hotch saw him flinch, and it broke his heart. "What do you want?" Reid asked, turning away from him.

Hotch's mind was blank. He'd left the house feeling like he desperately needed to see Reid; the reason would come to him along the way. He'd thought it had, and had decided that he would act upon it. He'd felt confident and determined. But that resolve vanished at the threshold of Reid's apartment.

"I just, I needed to talk to you," he said.

"What about?"

_Maybe I can leave now,_ Hotch thought. _Maybe I can just turn around and go without him noticing._

"Hotch?"

"I, uh, I wanted to tell you we figured out who it was."

Reid's body tensed. "Oh God," Hotch heard him whisper. "Who?"

"It was Strauss."

_God damn you,_ Hotch's mind cursed. _You couldn't have cushioned that for him, just a little bit?_

"I'm sorry, Reid," he continued, his voice softer. "Strauss is the one that did this."

Reid sat down on the couch, looking dazed. "But- but why? Why would she do that?"

Hotch shook his head, "I don't know."  
>"And-" Reid leaned forward and rested his face in his hands. "But, how? I kept it locked, in my desk. How would she have gotten it?"<p>

"We've dealt with people who have gotten into things much more secure than those cheap desks. I'm sure it wasn't very hard." Hotch sat on the couch too, making sure to leave Reid some distance. "But I'm sure she has keys to all our desks somewhere. Or she may have gotten a custodian to open it."

"I can't believe this." Reid's voice was as blank as his face. It scared Hotch. He didn't like not knowing what Reid was feeling, and what his expressions meant.

"Are you okay?" He ventured to ask. He hated himself as soon as he said it. _Of course he's not okay. What kind of question is that? _

Reid seemed deep in thought. Finally he said, "Actually, I think I am." He let out a sigh, "I was just, I was so afraid it was someone on the team, you know?"

"I thought you might be," Hotch said. "That's why I knew I'd have to tell you."

Reid looked up at him slowly. "You mean you were considering not telling me?"

Hotch's face grew hot, "No. No, I mean- of course not."

"You don't sound very convincing, Hotch," Reid said bitterly. "You were considering keeping it from me, weren't you?"

"No, I- I didn't want to keep it from you but, well, I wasn't looking forward to telling you, either. I worried how it would affect you, knowing that someone you should be able to count on, could –a superior, no less- could be responsible for this."

"How it would affect me? You thought I couldn't handle it?" Reid knew he was being irrational, but he couldn't help it. He was furious at so many things and at so many people; Hotch just happened to be closest. "I don't need you to protect me from everything, Hotch."

"That's not fair," he said quietly. "You know that's not what I meant. You're upset, I know, and you're twisting my words around."

Reid stood up quickly. "Yes I'm upset! You don't need to tell me I'm upset as if I didn't know!"

"Reid, why are you acting like this?" It was unnerving, Hotch thought, seeing someone so smart acting so childish and, dare he think it, stupid.

"Because I want you to leave!" Reid shuddered at the sound of his voice, high and hysterical. He turned from Hotch in embarrassment. "Please," he said quieter. "Please just leave."

Hotch knew it was foolish to be hurt by the way Reid was speaking to him. It wasn't personal; he was simply acting out. But it hurt just the same.

"I don't want to leave you," he said.

He saw Reid's shoulders begin to shake. Reid's hand went to his forehead as his body trembled.

"Come here," He moved in front of him, grabbing his shoulders. As soon as he wrapped his arms around him, Reid collapsed. His body seemed to give out, and he fell into Hotch, his long fingers grasping at him.

"Why are you here?" Reid cried. "How can you stand to even be near me?"

Hotch held onto him so tight he thought it would hurt him. "Don't say things like that," he whispered.

The feeling of Reid clinging to him, of all of his weight hanging onto Hotch's shoulders, his fingers shifting thoughtlessly, fingertips scratching his neck - all of these things were almost enough to distract Hotch from what was pressing against his thigh. Almost.

He shivered as his own erection pressed against Reid's. He heard Reid gasp quietly, and the grip on Hotch's shoulders tightened. Hotch let his hands trail up and down Reid's spine. His lips brushed against Reid's ear. He tried to pretend it was an accident; he tried to convince himself that there was nothing to it when he pressed his lips against the skin just under Reid's ear. His fingers scraped up and through Reid's hair. He kissed his neck again.

Reid's body tensed and he pulled his arms back to himself to push against Hotch's chest. "No," he whimpered, trying to wriggle out of his arms.

_This is familiar. _Hotch let go of him and backed away, his hand over his mouth. The bruises, the fear in Reid's face; Hotch wasn't even drunk now and he was still being just as aggressive as he had been the night before. "Reid, I'm-" _I'm sorry. _The words played on his tongue but refused to come out. _No, I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry. _"I want you."

Reid flinched as if he'd been struck. "Why would you say that?" His voice quivered.

_Because my head is spinning and I can't think when I look at you. _"Because it's the truth."

"No it's not," Reid shook his head. "You're lying."

"I'm not, Spencer. I swear to you, I'm telling the truth." He took a step closer to him. "I can't stop thinking about you. I can't get those things you wrote out of my head."

Reid groaned helplessly. "Please, can we not talk about that?"

"You don't need to be embarrassed." He edged closer, moving slowly as though approaching an armed suspect. "I'm glad I know."

"No you're not," Reid choked out. "Don't talk to me like that. You're just trying to protect my feelings, like you always do."

"And why do you think I always do that, Spencer?" Hotch said. The realization even surprised him a bit. The things he'd never admitted to himself were now being explained to the man he never knew he wanted.

"I don't know. But don't say it's because you feel the same way about me. It's…demeaning. Don't you lie to me like that."

"It's not a lie." _Oh God, how did I not realize for this long? _"I don't want it to be like this," Hotch said forcefully. Reid managed to look up at him for a moment, but he had to turn and walk away.

Hotch reached out and grabbed him by the arm. "No, Reid, please. Don't walk away from me." He felt something like an electrical jolt run through his body. His voice took on a tone that neither he nor Reid could help but recognize. It was the voice he used in the interrogation room. That tone didn't have any place in his personal life, as far as he was concerned. He was on the verge of apologizing. But then Reid turned around. Something in Reid's face kept Hotch from taking it back.

"Look at me." Hotch demanded, still gripping Reid's arm. He could see Reid trying to control himself as he raised his eyes, but he still looked terrified.

_ I need you to look at me,_ Hotch's thoughts pleaded. _I need you to understand me._ He reached out impatiently and took hold of Reid's jaw, keeping him at attention. Reid gasped. His hands flew up defensively, grabbing Hotch's arm and pulling limply at it. They stared at each other, their shallow sharp breaths colliding as they stood locked in a strange, confused battle of wills.

Hotch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn't think when Reid was holding onto his arm like that, or when Reid looked at him with that frightened, innocent, utterly captivating expression.

_ I can't think, I can't-_ Hotch took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

_So don't._

"Oh God, Reid," he choked out before sliding his hand behind Reid's neck and pressing their lips together.

Everything went dizzy and confused the second their lips touched. Heat and cold together rushed through his body. There were wonderful, almost painful throbs of pleasure between his legs. He ran his fingers wildly through Reid's hair, tugging at his locks. He broke the kiss for only a second, just a second enough to get air, and he caught a glimpse of Reid's expression. He looked beautifully shocked, with his hair mussed and his lips raw and red.

"You are _so_ fucking beautiful," he said in astonishment.

Reid smiled shyly. He leaned forward, resting his head on Hotch's chest. It was a daring gesture, Hotch thought. A small gesture, but it was vulnerable, and that was enough for him. He wrapped his arms around Spencer's waist, holding him tightly for a moment. The words from the journal came back to him, and he found himself saying them out loud.

"There's a good boy." He felt Reid quiver in his arms, and he began to rock him back and forth. Reid clung to him, raising his face to press small, bashful kisses against Hotch's neck.

_Such a good boy, Spencer. You're so good. You feel so-_

"Let's go to your bedroom," Hotch said. His voice had changed. It was soft, but with something dark beneath it. Reid leaned back, looking at him in confusion.

"W-why?"

"Because I want to do things to you." He ran his hand through Reid's hair again, slowly. His voice seemed an entity all its own now, not attached to him or to his insecurities. For now, he could pretend, and it was working.

Reid's lips were trembling, but Hotch could see a hint of a smile. "Are you sure?"

Hotch's body moved before his brain could become afraid and stop him. His hand slid down Reid's chest and firmly grasped Reid's erect dick.

"Agh!" Reid let out a shrill cry and sank against Hotch, grasping his shoulders. His mouth hung open and he moaned breathily against his boss's chest. Small, high pitched sounds escaped his lips as Hotch began to stroke him with nearly torturous deliberation. Reid pressed his body into Hotch's, arching into him so they fit perfectly. His head rolled back, inviting small bites and kisses from the man touching him. "Come on," he pulled him backwards, bumping into the arm of the couch. He grabbed Hotch's shirt and shoved him to the side and back, pushing him onto the couch. Hotch reached out and pulled Reid to him, running his hands up and down Reid's thighs. Reid straddled him, kissing him deeply with his hands behind Hotch's neck.

He pulled at Reid's vest, grabbing the shirt beneath and pulling it out from the waist of his pants. He kissed the exposed skin frantically, biting and sucking him, leaving small red spots on Reid's slender hips. He pushed up into him, desperate for friction. Was it his imagination, or was Reid lifting away from him slightly?

Hotch groaned. "Please, Reid." He held Reid's shoulders and tried to push him back down. He could feel Reid smiling against his lips. "You're evil," Hotch said.

He reached down between his legs and began to touch himself. He stroked hard, harder than he was used to on his own. He could feel it building inside him. His head was tingling with dizziness, made worse by Reid pulling his hair and nibbling on his ear. He was so close he could almost taste the afterglow.

He practically screamed when Reid took his hand away.

"No no no-" Hotch whined, writhing at the loss of contact.

"Not yet." Reid took his vest off and threw it casually onto the floor. Hotch took over, fumbling at the buttons of his shirt. He could barely see through the painfully aroused haze he was in. How could he be this bad at unbuttoning a shirt? He unbuttoned his own every day. He let out a groan of frustration, and ripped it off of him.

"Hey!" Reid protested for a moment before Hotch crashed their lips together. The squeak of surprise he got from Reid was almost enough to push him over the edge. He kissed down Reid's throat and chest. He let his lips linger over Reid's nipple, his tongue sticking out and brushing teasingly against Reid's nipple. Reid groaned into him, still trying to keep his hips away from Hotch's lap but wanting to press him tightly to him. Reid jumped off the couch clumsily.

"Where are you going?" Hotch gasped.

"You wanted to go to my bedroom," Reid unbuckled his belt and threw it on the floor. He shyly let his fingers trace over Hotch's erection. The sharp sigh that the touch elicited made Reid bolder. He took his boss by the hand, "Come on." He raised an eyebrow when Hotch reached down to bring his jacket with him, but said nothing about it, and led him into his bedroom.

"This room looks familiar," Hotch said with a timid smile. He brought Reid to him again in a deep kiss. He felt less nervous when he was just kissing Reid, and he didn't have to think about anything but how good it felt. But now, in the bedroom, it all became real, and terrifying.

"Hotch, you're shaking," Reid said, trying to get him to meet his gaze. "Are you okay?"

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows in an expression that was all too familiar. For a second, Reid was afraid that the Hotch he knew, his boss, was going to "come to his senses" and put a stop to everything. He couldn't let that happen.

"Don't think, Aaron." Reid said firmly. "Here," he guided him to the edge of the bed and pushed him down. He undid Hotch's pants and pulled them harshly off his body. His eyes got dark for a flicker of a second at the sight of him. His breathing fast and hard. He lay down next to him and kissed his cheek, his neck, his neck, his shoulder, running his hand up and down Hotch's chest. Each time it traveled it got closer to what it wanted.

"Reid, I'm…what if this is a bad idea?" Hotch said, "This could be a terrible idea, what if- Jesus!"

He thrust his hips upward, into the fist that Reid had curled around him. He was stroking him hard, almost aggressively.

"You were saying?" Reid grinned.

"No-nothing, I don't know." Hotch's voice was coming out strained and breathy. "I don't know what I was saying."

"Don't think," Reid said again. _Please don't think, Aaron. Because if you do you'll put a stop to this and I think if you rejected me now I would never recover._

"Ok. Just…just keep doing that and I won't be able to." He licked his lips and arched his back obscenely. Reid shuddered. This was better than he could have imagined. Aaron Hotchner was hard, because of him, he was on his bed, laid out wantonly and thrusting into his hand. And it was real. This wasn't in his daydreams or in his journal.

He pressed his lips to Hotch's chest again, and found himself trailing down his stomach, kissing messily. He let go of his dick, sensing Hotch was close.

Hotch gasped and cried out at the sudden absence of touch. He clawed at the blankets and ground his hips into the bed.

Reid smiled at him from between his legs, "Somebody's squirmy." His voice dropped, "What do you want, Hotch?"

Hotch writhed, "I don't know," he said lethargically. "I just, I just want you."

"I want you too, Hotch," he nuzzled Hotch's inner thigh with his head, planting kisses and biting gently. "But what do you want me to do?"

"God, I don't know…I have no idea."

Reid's tongue flicked out and swirled the head of Hotch's penis. He had to press Hotch's hips down into the bed to keep him from taking more than Reid was willing to give at the moment. "Well," he said, "what part of my journal did you enjoy the most?"

_I want it. I want him. _

"_Spread your legs." He tells me. And I do._

The words he'd memorized played through his head. He was desperate to tell him; the plea was in his throat but, even now, lying naked with his subordinate between his legs, he was too ashamed.

"Don't be afraid, Hotch. Tell me what you want."

"I want-I want…" _Come on, just tell him. Just admit it to yourself, and then admit it to him. _

Reid spoke up quietly, "Do you want to fuck me?"

Hotch sucked his breath in sharply. The shock was double; he knew that Reid was a genius, of course, and he knew that he was a brilliant profiler, but he didn't realize he was a mind reader. And actually hearing Reid say "fuck" was both surprising and incredibly erotic.

Hotch nodded. "Yes."

"Good," Reid said. He pressed soft kisses along the length of Hotch's erection, making him shudder. "Good. I want you to fuck me."

He sat up and straddled his boss suddenly, grinding into him and leaning over to kiss him.

"Wait-" Hotch said when the kiss broke for a moment. "Wait a second, I need to get something out of my jacket."

Reid moved off of him, with a look amused suspicion. "What is it?" He heard the crinkling of plastic, and Hotch tossed a small grocery bag onto the bed.

Hotch cleared his throat. "I, um, picked up some things on my way here. Just in case. I wasn't, really, expecting…"

Reid grinned widely, "Condoms and lubricant? Why, Aaron Hotchner, you had this all planned out, didn't you?" He clasped his hand over Aaron's when he saw him blush. "I think that's really sweet." Hotch leaned forward and kissed him. _I could get used to this,_ he thought. They were on their knees, facing each other, kissing wildly and pressing their aching groins together. He wrapped his arms around Reid's thin waist, his hands running along his skin. His shoulder blades, his ribs, his faint muscles, he could feel everything. Reid was letting him explore his body, and it was the most exhilarating thing he had ever felt. He was reveling in the sight of Reid's thin abdomen and the visible hip bones that his khaki pants hung off of. He fumbled with the button and zipper and pulled them down forcefully enough to pull the boxer shorts along with them. His eyes widened at the sight of Reid completely naked. "Oh God, Reid, you're…"

Reid looked away, tucking his hair behind his ears and biting his lip.

_Coquette,_ Hotch thought with a smile. He pulled Reid close to him, trying to calm his own pounding heart. Reid held onto him; their skin was warm together and the contact sent little electrical tingles throughout their bodies. Reid's nimble fingers grabbed the bottom of Hotch's shirt and lifted it up. The fabric ripped, and Reid smiled. "Just paying you back." He leaned in close, ""I want you to fuck me now," he whispered in his ear.

Hotch shook, "I'm so afraid of hurting you, Spencer."

"Don't be." Reid took Hotch's hand and placed it between his legs. He sank against his boss as he stroked him. "I want it to hurt."

"Okay," Hotch nodded. "Lay down, on your stomach." His hands shook as he opened the condom wrapper and rolled it onto himself. He took a deep breath. His head was spinning. He had never known how much he had wanted this. He had never expected this from Reid, much less from himself.

He poured the lubricant on his fingers first and placed one delicately against Reid's ass. He stroked the entrance there apprehensively, but was urged on by the way Reid moaned and arched his back up into the touch.

"I want you inside me," he breathed into the blankets, clawing at the pillow. "I need to feel you, Hotch, please."

Hotch was aching to be inside him. He was terrified, but the desire for the beautiful man in front of him, naked and wanting him, was much stronger. He poured the lubricant on himself, running his hand along the length and wiping the rest on Reid's entrance. He knew Reid said he wanted to be hurt, but he couldn't do that, could he?

Hotch took another deep breath. "Okay. Tell me if this hurts too much." He began to push. He felt himself going in slowly, agonizingly slowly, feeling Reid tightening over the most sensitive area of his body. It took all his strength not to just shove inside of him and pound until he had relief.

Small, high pitched moans were escaping Reid's lips as he tried to push up into Hotch. His breath was heavy.

"Does that hurt?" Hotch asked fearfully.

"A little," Reid said.

Hotch panicked and stopped. He tried to pull out, shouted in surprise and pain when Reid reached behind him and grabbed him by the hair.

"Don't stop," Reid said vehemently. "Don't you dare stop. I told you, I want you to hurt me." He loosened his grip on Aaron's hair, lightly stroking his scalp. "Push in harder."

Aaron gulped. He couldn't deny it was what he wanted. He wanted to be completely inside him, he wanted it more than anything.

So he pushed.

Reid screamed out, his fingers curling around the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. The scream turned into a low sigh. "That's it," he said, licking his lips. "Do it again."

Hotch pulled back slightly, getting another whimper from Reid who was struggling beneath him. He pushed back in forcefully. Reid grunted, muffling the sound by burying his face in the pillow. He reached around and took Hotch by the hand. He lifted his hips slightly and put his hand over his erection, now even harder than before.

"Touch me, Hotch, please," he sighed. "Hurt me."

Hotch awkwardly tried to stroke Reid while pulling out and pushing into him. It took a moment to find the rhythm to it. Focusing on that made him less concerned with the pain he was inflicting, the pain his lover was enjoying, apparently, and more aware of how incredible he felt. He was pounding into him, pressing into his body and biting into his shoulders and back. They were both moaning and breathing out words that meant nothing, begging "please" without knowing what it was they were begging for.

Hotch shifted slightly, and when he pushed into him again, Reid gasped loudly. "Do that again," he said. His voice was filled with something like wonder, and Hotch couldn't help smiling. He pushed back in, hitting the same spot. "Fuck!" Reid cried out. "Fuck, oh God, Hotch- Aaron," he corrected. "You feel so good, you feel so amazing."

"So do you," Hotch kissed his back and shoulders feverishly. His nails were digging into Reid's shoulder, and then scraped up to grab a fistful of Reid's hair and tugging hard. Reid shrieked, but kept thrusting both into Hotch's hand and back against his erection. _I can't escape,_ he thought. _He has me pinned and no matter which way I go, he is there. I can't escape._

That thought was enough. He cried out, grasping at the pillows and behind him onto his lover's back, clawing at him as he called out his name. "Oh God, Hotch, I'm coming, I'm going to…" he moaned and thrust back into him once more, as hard as he could. Hotch could feel the orgasm surge from Reid, throbbing and pulsing as the muscles around his own erection squeezed. The feeling in his hand and around his dick was too sublime. He pulled Reid's hair once more, harder than before, and he let go inside of Spencer Reid.

They lay like that for they didn't know how long. Their hearts beat loudly, echoing through their own bodies and passing into each other's. They were sweating, their hands were tangled in each other. Their bodies covered in bite marks and bruises, and in the signs of their pleasured relief.  
>Hotch pulled out of him, and rolled over onto his back. He let out deep breaths and closed his eyes. He felt Spencer's warm body move to press itself against his own. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed him on the forehead. "I never felt anything remotely close to that."<p>

"Neither have I," Reid smiled. "That was better than anything I ever wrote about." He grew quiet and thoughtful.

"Are you okay?" Hotch asked nervously. _Please don't say this was a mistake…_

"Have you told anybody else, about, you know, what you found out?"

"No, just you. But I'll report it in the morning, I promise."

"That's not what I was getting at," Reid said. He draped his body across Hotch's, "I was just thinking-"

"Of course you were," Hotch snickered.

Reid slapped him jokingly, "Just listen. I was thinking, if you and I were going to have a, um, a relationship," he had to stop himself from smiling like a maniac at the thought, "if we were going to have a relationship, and continue working together at the BAU, we would need her to approve of an exception to the fraternization policy, right?"

"Right…"

"Well, we could use what you know, and offer to keep it to ourselves, if she would just leave us alone, couldn't we?"

"Spencer Reid," Hotch said, keeping a deadpan tone, "are you suggesting we blackmail one of my superiors?"

Reid felt his heart beat faster. He was suddenly reminded of the fact that Hotch was still his boss. He had crossed a line. Would he believe it if he said he was joking? Of course not. "It was just an idea," he said quietly.

Hotch pulled Reid back enough so he could kiss his lips deeply. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a genius?"

Reid let out a sigh of relief. He grinned, "I've heard something like it before."

Hotch kissed him again, stroking Reid's hair. He wrapped his arms around him and held him tighter. "This was…I've never felt this way, Reid. I never knew making love with someone could be that incredible."

Reid's body tightened. He didn't want the conversation to involve Hotch's ex-wife in any way. Hotch was his. She didn't belong here, and neither did anyone else. "I didn't either. No one has ever made me feel like this."

"Were there- I mean, have there been many others?" Hotch didn't want to know the answer, unless of course the answer was _no_. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. It's none of my business."

"Are you jealous, Aaron?" Reid kissed his chest and took one of his nipples gently between his teeth.

"Maybe I am," Hotch said. "You're rare, Spencer Reid, and I want to keep you."

Reid smiled wickedly, "Yes sir. I'm all yours."

They lay together so long that time did not matter. Silent and content, they were tangled together long past the sunset.

_The English poet John Donne once said: Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification._

The End

_ I hope very much that you liked that! I was trying to figure out how to end it with things being semi resolved…I hope there aren't inconsistencies or anything. I ended up piecing together bits of the older segment with what I was coming up with after, and tried to make sure things made sense but I'm silly and may have missed something._

_ Thank you to everybody for reading and reviewing :D you are all fantastic. _

_ I have to give oodles of thanks to Ihli, who helped ridiculously with my writer's block! She offered the idea of power exchange/role reversal with Reid and Hotch, and with the decision that they could use Strauss's evil actions for good. Thank you thank you thank you! Everybody should check out her page…Her "Reality TV" story was one of the first Criminal Minds fanfics I read, and from then on I was hooked. _

_Thank you again to everybody for being so great and giving feedback! You rock._


End file.
